Duty
by Faye Dartmouth
Summary: Obi-Wan reflects after his fight with Anakin in RotS.


Title: Duty

Summary: Obi-Wan reflects after his fight with Anakin. Spoilers for RotS.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: It's been a LONG time since I've posted anything and I'm strangely nervous about it. After seeing RotS, I was plagued with questions about how it all went down—I mean, there are so many emotions that are spoken and you just wonder about it. So in order to sort it out in my mind, I attempted to do it through Obi-Wan. I kind of don't like how it's so long and really rambling, but I hope it ties together in the end, even if unsatisfactorily (that is somewhat intentional). I don't know—I'm open to all kinds of feedback. Sorry for any typos or mistakes. Hope you enjoy :)

The trip back was a long and lonely one. Padme was unconscious, and, although Obi-Wan pitied what she faced, he also envied her current oblivion. But nothing could save him from his thoughts, his memories.

The look an Anakin's face when he saw Padme pleading with him. That look of hatred, anger, consuming darkness.

Anakin's words: "You will try, Master." Confidence, vengeance, distrust, blindness.

He had parried with Anakin many times in the boy's training. He had fought side by side with Anakin through many missions. He had always been impressed seeing him in action. But this fight—

Anakin always took his fighting seriously, even in their leisurely sparring. But something had fundamentally changed in Anakin. Now he was fighting with the full power of the Dark Side. Each slash of his lightsaber was more intentional, more powerful, more deadly.

Obi-Wan had fought the Darkness before. He had fought it and defeated it on Naboo when the Sith had killed his own master. He had battled it on Geonosis and failed against Count Dooku. Dooku had bested him again during the rescue mission of the Chancellor—or the Emperor, as he now was. But nothing—not one of those experiences—could prepare him for the pure evil that radiated from within Anakin. His apprentice. His fellow Jedi. His friend. His brother.

He had lost many battles with the Darkness, and this was one he wasn't sure he wanted to win. But he kept seeing Anakin slaying the younglings in the Temple. He kept knowing that all of his other companions in the galaxy were dead because of his former apprentice. He had to focus on the evil in order to fight the body of the man he knew and loved.

That didn't make is easy, though, to separate the two. His mind could barely accept that it was Anakin who had performed such atrocities, that it was Anakin who had pledged his allegiance to the Sith Lord, that it was Anakin who was trying to kill him with all of the Darkness in the galaxy. Yoda had entrusted this task to him, but he doubted that he could complete it. Truly he believed he would have more of a chance against Darth Sidious. At least that was a face of evil he could understand, that he truly already hated. Fighting Anakin was so confusing, so…heartbreaking.

Padme had pleaded, begged Anakin. "You're breaking my heart," she had cried. Although Obi-Wan would not cry, his heart was breaking as well. He had known all along that Anakin loved Padme, and he had long suspected their relationship. If Padme could not sway Anakin—no one could. Seeing Anakin turn on Padme solidified his resolve—she gave him a reason to fight Anakin—she was someone palpable to defend.

"You will try, Master."

He had never broken the cockiness from the boy, no matter how hard he tried. That was his failing, and Anakin's words rang bitterly in his ears, reminding him again and again of how he had not fulfilled his promise to Qui-Gon.

His failures had to be reconciled. Although Padme provided him with the inspiration to take on Anakin, his reason for being on that planet were not entirely altruistic. Part of him had come to deny what he had seen, to have Anakin tell him that it was a plot against him, that he had been framed. Part of him had come to save Anakin, to turn him to the Light again. But another part of him had come to fix the mess he had made. He had trained Anakin. The Council had been wary, but he had insisted. He had been the one to form Anakin into a Jedi. But he had failed to protect him from the pride. He had failed to cure him of fear. He had failed to curb his arrogance. He had failed to keep him from the Dark.

Anakin knew all his tricks. He knew all his weaknesses. So Obi-Wan was surprised to hold his own as well as he did. But his heart was not into the fight. He fought defensively. He did not want to find an opportunity for the killing blow.

But then he found himself on the high ground, Anakin below him, glaring, sneering up.

He told Anakin not to try it. Silently, he begged Anakin not to jump. He reached out in the Force with every ounce of strength he could to enter Anakin's mind, to restore the bond that had once been there.

He was met with Darkness.

Anakin jumped.

In slow motion, Obi-Wan saw himself lopping off Anakin's legs, in an easy fluid motion.

He refused to continue the memory. He closed his mind to it. He had to keep his attention here and now, where it belonged. With the ship on autopilot, Obi-Wan took the time to check on his lone passenger. Padme was still prone on the bunk where he had carefully placed her. He sat down beside her, gently checking her vitals.

He sighed. How would he tell her that Anakin was gone? How would he explain what he had done to her husband?

How would he explain what her husband had done to him, to the Jedi, to the galaxy, to himself?

She would want to know everything. She would want to know how it ended. She would want to know why he jumped when Obi-Wan had told him not to.

The engines hummed quietly and Obi-Wan rested his elbows on his knees at the Senator's bedside. There were three reasons that Obi-Wan could think of.

1. Anakin was deluded enough in his own power that he truly believed he could avoid any possible affront that Obi-Wan put forth.

Anakin had always been confident, even overconfident. It had been a fault Obi-Wan had chastised him for often. He couldn't help be recall their first fight with Dooku back on Geonosis. Anakin had ignored Obi-Wan and charged ahead foolishly. That fight had not ended well for either of them. And since that time, Anakin's skills had excelled, which hadn't done much to control his ego. After all, Obi-Wan also couldn't forget that in their second encounter with Dooku. While Anakin had shown restraint, he had also completed the fight successfully and by himself. Overconfidence and excessive ability were dangerous to Anakin in the best of times; now that Anakin had given into the Dark Side, he knew that these two factors would only be exacerbated. The Dark Side fed these, and Anakin's attitude in this fight reflected that.

2. Anakin somehow believed that Obi-Wan would ultimately succumb to his emotions and be unable to impart such a devastating blow.

Not that such thoughts had not crossed Obi-Wan's mind. His affection and intimacy with Anakin was no secret. They had been through countless adventures together. They had spent over ten years side by side, very much learning and growing together, even though Obi-Wan was the one with the title of Master. When Qui-Gon had died, he had taken the boy into his life first out of obligation, but then also as a way to cling to the memory of his master. Qui-Gon was the first person he truly opened his mind to, and Anakin was his sole tangible link to that intimacy he had enjoyed with Qui-Gon. To slay Anakin would be to slay that link, to slay his master all over again. For all the times Obi-Wan had chastised and counseled Anakin about attachment, he himself had formed a deep attachment to Anakin. It was the deepest love he had ever known. To kill Anakin would be to kill a part of himself—it would be very much like suicide.

3. Anakin wanted to be defeated.

This option provided Obi-Wan with a twinge of hope—perhaps Anakin had not been totally consumed. Perhaps some goodness still reside somewhere deep within him. This would mean that Anakin had been redeemed in his final moments. Obi-Wan wanted to believe this—he wanted to think that Anakin had entrusted his mentor to slay the beast he had become, knowing himself unable to do so himself. Darth Vader had prevailed in his pupil's dying moments, so he would never know the truth about Anakin's actions.

But if Anakin had wanted to lose, Obi-Wan could not keep himself from regretting fulfilling the death wish. If he had truly leapt hoping to die, then Obi-Wan should have been able to save him. If Anakin trusted him to kill him, why couldn't Obi-Wan trust Anakin to be redeemed? Instead of helping his apprentice back from Darkness, he had squelched whatever goodness there might have been along with the Darkness.

The layers of doubt were haunting, echoing in the humming ship with the lingering tones of Anakin's last words to Obi-Wan—"I hate you!" Obi-Wan could not help but wonder if it had truly been Anakin to speak those words or Darth Vader. Had he left Anakin smoldering beside the lava or Darth Vader? Or was it a fallacy to think that those two entities were really so separate? Obi-Wan didn't know which option was worse: having lost his brother altogether or defeating the remnants of the person he used to know.

A tear slid down his face and Obi-Wan quickly wiped it away, trying to control himself. A Jedi knew not regret. A Jedi knew not love.

Obi-Wan actually let out a laugh. There were no more Jedi, and he was deceiving himself if he believed those trite sayings. It was regret and love that had brought him to this fateful day—regret for his master's death, for Anakin's fall, for his own failure to train Anakin—love for his master, love for the boy he trained, love for the man he killed.

Padme suddenly let out a small groan as she shifted on the bunk. Obi-Wan checked her vitals again, worriedly willing the ship to go faster. She needed proper medical attention, especially in her condition. She and her unborn child were his duty now. It had been duty to the Jedi, to the galaxy, that led him to watch Anakin burning, now it was duty that provided his only motivation not to crash his ship into the nearly asteroid he could find.

He stroked her hair gently, realizing how she had played such a large role in Anakin's life. He had overlooked their relationship, writing it off as platonic affection, even though he had sensed its depth. Anakin had let emotions overrun his duty. Obi-Wan had tried all his life to obey the rules, to be responsible to his duties—but he had never learned that not all duties are prescribed by a Council. What about his duty to Anakin as a person? As his friend? As his brother? Had he neglected those duties because he was afraid of Anakin's openness in these areas? Had Anakin loved immoderately because he was never shown enough affection?

There were too many questions, too many doubts. Obi-Wan had both fulfilled his duties and failed them miserably. But all the attachments he had once had were gone now—Qui-Gon was long since buried, the Republic had fallen, the Jedi were exterminated, and Anakin was gone. It seemed that all he left was duty to the woman who lay in front of him and the baby she carried.

It didn't matter what had happened. His thoughts wandered in hope of reducing his doubts to a single solidified answer. He wanted to pinpoint the problem, to create a scapegoat. The galaxy may be made up of Light and Dark, he realized, but people are rarely so simply categorized. Neither are their choices. There were no answers to his questions. All he knew was that Anakin had jumped, and he had done his duty.

Obi-Wan stood from his seat. He cast one last look at the Senator, then made his way back to the cockpit to check their course.


End file.
